Instructions: Keep it clean. No real names. My advice is to stick with the plot diagram we discussed (short story elements handout). Activating Circumstance, Rising Action, Climax, Denouement. Consider starting with Setting (time, place). You may write as much as you want, but remember it may be subsequently edited for grammar, fluency and cohesiveness.
I travel only as a single thought, a material greatly sought. Although I am most people’s desire, I have never been truly adored. My
mere purpose is to be obtained and then lost, gained and then spent. My brass coating serves no purpose, the art around my sides show no style. I am a one dollar coin, and no one has ever really wanted me.
I have been alive since 1987 and have been bought and sold too many times to recall. I spent nights under pillows to be discovered in the morning by a toothless child, I have been dropped to the ground only to be picked up by another stranger. Several times I have been held, but never have I ever been truly wanted. Why is it that you seek me, only to lose or trade me the day after? Is it really me that you are searching for? With no imagination, I can not believe that I really am the true object of your desire. People look upon coins and see nothing of the dollar itself. They look beyond it. With an image as clear as the sky on a sunny day, they see their dreams, their children’s dreams, and I don't know what I did to be the mirror of your desires. I even believe that you do not know the true reason either. Perhaps if you see my life, I can explain it in enough detail. Maybe then we may further investigate this inquiry and decide for ourselves what I really have done for you and what you really have done in exchange for me.
My first memory began in a small wooden cabinet where the fresh smell of pine spread across the whole room. On the table I laid down as an ugly rectangular brass, waiting for the fateful moment. Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps heading into the cabinet.
A man wrapped around in layers and layers of jackets kicked the door open and groaned, “Aye, this cold reminds me of the past year. Winter of ’84, my eyelids froze, but I still worked like a dog for those people.”
The large man threw his coat and shoes down while hopping towards his favorite chair, wincing and rubbing his sore legs. When he reached his chair, he started up the blazing fire and poured beer into his crudely crafted mug, all the while mumbling and swearing. After he downed his cup and stretched, he limped towards the table and placed a candle to illuminate the darkness.
He stared down at me and began mumbling to himself, “Oh boy, I'll make sure you're be a fine beauty when I'm finished with you. After all the trouble I had to go through to create you.”
The man picked up his tools and began to slowly carve me after a design drawn on old brown paper. He began with my body and engraved the design with such caution and grace that would make even the most meticulous tailor green with envy. After hours of carving, engraving, and sanding, he seemed to be satisfied with the results. He gently tied a red ribbon around my new smooth edges, then placed me in a small wooden box full of wool and tiredly dropped dead on to his bed. I was the prototype of my kind and felt special despite my humble birth. I thought I would have a peaceful reign as a beautiful work of art. Of course, it took me years to realize how foolish that thought was.
Although my creation was extremely crude, eventually I became the model of many other coins, all carved to the point of extreme precision with the best machinery the country could afford. There was a time when I was praised, repeatedly polished until I shone like the sun, and was gently set on a velvet cushion to display what I had to offer. My creator, Robert-Ralph Carmichael, became rich and famous, eventually replacing me with an enormous monument. Only too soon was I tucked into the ordinary coin drawer thoughtlessly. There I waited for years among grub like moldy pennies and dull nickels, until a servant girl's fingers nervously snatched me from my place and stuffed me into her sleeves. Listening in to the snippets of conversations I was able to deduce that she wished to seek out a new life, all the way in British Columbia. Echo Bay was too small for a young girl with dreams wider than the sky.
Little did I know that this event had a domino effect, triggering other situations-lies, secrets, and revolt will enfold, and that I would be the catalyst of it all. On a cold winter evening of 1987, while the young girl was working at a McDonald's restaurant in Vancouver, British Columbia, a middle aged man walked up to her. This man was in his early 50s, had a relatively huge belly for someone his size, and a receding line of grey hair. He ordered a Double Big Mac meal and paid the girl a ten dollar bill. As the meal cost nine dollars, the girl had to give him back one dollar for change.The girl pulled out the drawer, grasped my sides with her soft, icy fingers, and handed me to the rough hands of the man.
The man was aged and so his clumsy fingers dropped me to the ground, making me clatter against the floor painfully. I rolled far on the ground and by some miracle , I rolled through the cracks of the McDonald's front entrance and into an alley. The man did not even bother to search for me as he was too busy enjoying his Double Big Mac meal. Here I am, in an alley beside a dumpster on a icy winter day, waiting for someone that would never come. For a moment I thought this will be where the rest of my life lay. The snow had fallen again, the chilled air rushing against me while I laid on the cold, merciless earth. When ice began to coat my jagged sides, I had all but given up hope when a man stumbled in to the alley. He was in ragged, threadbare clothes that showed the spoils of his past meals with patches indicating the need of replacements. As he came near, a strong rush of alcohol filled up the air, permeating the surroundings with an ill scent. The man wobbled on unsteady knees and fell on the ground, cursing as he went down. Instead of getting up, he just sat there and let out a laugh of sadness, then started to tear up, as if he were mocking himself ironically. Then, he noticed me for the first time and started to complain to me. For hours we sat there, him telling the tale of his life while I just listened, enraptured at the sad story. His life's tragedy began when he was just a baby- he was orphaned due to his parent's death in an accident. Then god saw his suffering and decided to take pity on him, helping him to become a successful businessman owning one of the largest international corporations. He met the love of his life when he was just 25 and the two were ready to get married. Everything was going well, but as if god had played a giant joke on him, the tragedy came on his wedding day. He saved his lover from a planned assassination designed for both of them but he didn't escape the cruel fate and fell into a coma from his injuries.
For years he lied on a hospital bed until he woke up. His company had been devoured by his enemies. All of his other possessions had been sold in an auction to pay for his hospital bill. Without his wealth and power, his so called friends began to leave him one by one. Finally, his lover ran off with another man. After these events he began to intoxicate himself with alcohol in a half-hearted attempt to wash away the past. Everything he had left was either gambled away or traded for alcohol- he lived in poverty from then. He picked me up and caressed me with his fingers as gently as he could, as if I was a treasure worth a great fortune. He took a long deep look at me and said: "You are my last bet."
I felt pity for the man. It seemed extremely unfair for him to have to undergo so much pain, especially after he had spent such great effort to succeed. It would be such a loss for him to use me as his last bet. No one or anything deserved to wash away to nothingness, and yet it seemed so common in our modern society. Everything can crumble down into ash within the blink of an eye, even people who are created only to die. Money gets traded without a thought, ships go to and from, families live monotonously waiting for something to come without realizing that they are wasting away their lives. It was like this that I realized something, that I too was very much like the poor man that lay beside me. I had come from a humble beginning and despite my great ambitions, here I lay on the banks of a street. Did I really wish to live like this? What could I do to change my fate though? Amidst a great feeling of impotence the man beside me began to have a coughing fit. He wheezed for minutes on end and doubled over, having a series of spasms before he was dead still. His breathing slowed until you could no longer hear the raspy intake of air. I realized a moment later that he had died, and despite the sadness, I felt inspired, motivated. I had lived too long not enjoying where I was. If I couldn't do anything about it I might as well begin to enjoy it. My revelation seemed to bring along good fortune too, for the very next day, after the dead man was discovered by the police and taken away, a little girl and boy found me.
It wasn't until days later that I found myself lying frozen in the snow again. The last few days had been a blur to me...a horrid dream...something I'd rather forget. Only now was I beginning to realize how cruel the human life could be. Words like "gambling", "alcohol", "cheating" and ”death” were just beginning to enter into my vocabulary...and it made me feel very unfortunate.
Well...
Maybe not as unfortunate as some. Like the poor abandoned man, who lost his last dollar to the dirt covered streets...or the crying child, who was beaten by his father for picking up one little brass coin.
I had to admit, I missed the darkness and the soothing calm of those old wooden drawers that people left me in. Even a wallet sounded pleasant at the moment. But unlucky for me, because the next thing I knew, a screaming little girl was shaking me back and forth like she had just won the lottery. Holding me up to her face, she whispered, “I wish I could be a princess!” before immediately tossing me into the freezing nightmarish land of a fountain. At the very least, I didn't need to breathe...otherwise I'd be a dead piece of brass right now. Later I found myself thinking how stupid that girl was. She wanted me to make her a princess, yet she tossed me away like a piece of trash. I didn't care how sweet or adorable she was- that little brat wasn't going to become Cinderella in my life time!
Or maybe I shouldn’t be so cruel. Anyway, since that horrible moment, I've been counting and have now found that my stay in this fountain was getting to be a little too long. A month of staring at the constant rippling ceiling above you, it
sort of begins to affect your mind after a while...that much I knew.
Suddenly, my "eye" caught a little girl peering down at me. She lowered her hand into the water, sending everything into a rippling blur. Warm fingers closed over my frozen surface and finally I was surrounded by air again. If a dollar could sigh, I would with relief. The girl showed me to an older woman and they exchanged words I could hardly hear over the roar of the fountain. I managed
to catch the phrases "oldest one yet" and "add to collection"… But I was too happy to worry much about anything at the time, which happened to be a huge mistake. My previous wish was soon answered as I slipped into the calming darkness of a pocket. Hours later though, I found myself in the sticky grasp of gluey fingers, as I am coated in white and pasted to a flimsy piece of cardboard. I noticed a label below me reading "1987", before I was shoved to the back of a dusty shelf...forgotten.
I was only now beginning to realize that, life as the first dollar, wasn't exactly all roses…
My time on that dusty shelf was not fun. My owner was most likely a hoarder, as I lived among piles of random objects. The cardboard which I had been glued on was also adorned with other coins that dated back to the Romans and Greeks, and we chattered amicably, the only good memory I had of that place. What wonderful stories they told about their adventures back in the olden days! There was a coin that had belonged to a gypsy who owned a dancing bear. The bear had liked to waltz with all the tiny girls and boys of the village, bringing about much joy within the little town. There was a coin that had belonged to Einstein, and boy, did he have some wacky stories to tell. He talked about experiments he had been forced to take part of, and as exciting as it sounded I was most grateful to not be him. There was another coin that had belonged to a hitch hiker, who never used money and always stole, yet he collected coins from all around the world. This coin in particular was nothing special, but the things she had seen were quite the contrary of dull. There were also many old objects neighboring my place on top of the shelf, for example, the turtle shell and the old Barbie toy. While I was looking around, I fell asleep.
After a couple of days, some quick, sharp and loud raps came from the door awoke me from my dream; slowly opening my tired eyes, I was shocked to see my owner lying on the ground, clenching his wrinkled shirt around her chest, with dark blue veins protruding on her pinched face. Scenes I saw brought me into panic, and my instinct told me that she was about to die. An impulse suggesting me to save her suddenly came into my mind; however, as a small and helpless loonie, all I could do was watch, sigh and pray. As time elapsed, a week had passed, the fetid scent from the corpse getting stronger and stronger. I was tortured so much by the bad scent. As I wished for someone to come, the door was knocked down by the neighbors. A few seconds later, as the neighbors came in, the disgusting smell blew into their noses and a lot started to puke, the air becoming more wretched with every second. Then, a doctor from the crowd announced that she was killed by heart attack, and organized people to clean up. After a long time cleaning up, they realized that this was a house filled with fantastic collections: a tremendous wall with precious coins from around the world, an old turtle shell reflecting golden light and a Barbie toy which was from the first time a Barbie was released to the current Barbie toy, and so much more antiques that littered every nook and cranny of the vintage manor. A government official deprived all the collections, including me, in her house and put me in a huge box with other random objects.
By the time a flabby, shaking hand took me out of the box, I saw an aged man who could barely walk, though I couldn’t deny the fact that he loved collecting- his hot tear dropped onto my surface, startling me from the heat. This was the first time I felt such intense temperature since I was abandoned by my designer. He was the most famous collector in all of British Columbia and he put me in the museum, which belonged to him, after he had examined and stared at every inch of my rough, scratched surface.
My next few years were spent in a museum behind glass doors. Day after day I would have children press their noses on the glass panes and watch me for a while before going away. The first time this happened I was filled with happiness- finally I was going to have the attention I deserved! However, the museum was filled with wonderful sights such as mummies, treasure, paintings galore, and I soon realized that fleeting glances were not enough to satisfy my yearning for happiness. As if the one above me, if he existed, had heard my prayers, the very next day a spectacular event occurred. The museum had just closed, the guards were already at their positions, the alarms were set and ready. I prepared myself for another long and tedious night, but then shortly after the first shift switch I heard a bang. The guards jumped awake spilling their coffee on the floor. Seconds later the first alarm went off only to be deactivated in no time. Suddenly one of the guards fell to the floor, his hand holding his neck where an arrow stuck out in an almost comical fashion. There was a thick mist rolling in and the next thing that was happening was my kidnapping. A man took out a laser gun and, just like in the movies, cut a hole in the glass cover above me. He reached in with his leather gloves and put me into a bag. From then on everything is a blur.
I woke up the next day on someone's desk. I could hear voices yelling from the room outside. I managed to catch some phrases here and there, and from what I could tell I had been part of a string of robberies. It appeared to me as if my monetary value had for some weird reason increased to thousands of dollars. On any other day I would have felt extremely happy. However, under the given circumstances, I was actually quite nervous. According to their plan I would have to be turned into scrap metal in order to be sold. Scrap metal! I was not ready to have my dignity stripped away. I might be a humble coin, but that did not mean that I did not have a sense of pride. After all, no first of a kind should be turned into a useless piece of recyclable material! It would be outrageous! The question was, how would I escape this fate? I could not move and I had no way of communicating with these felons, although my gut feeling was that even talking wouldn't save me from them. The only thing I could do was to wish that someone would save me, or that they would change their minds.
It seemed that luck was indeed on my side that day, for help did come my way, in a very peculiar way. As it happens, there was some food besides me, and the owner of the food and desk where I was had a ferocious dog that I swear could have eaten anything at all, including myself. The dog seemed to have been very hungry that day and so he took a desperate lunge at the sandwich that lay right behind me. The dog didn't have much good aim and as a result he not only swallowed the sandwich but he also swallowed me!
Going through the digestive system was not a fun ride and by the time I had made it through, my wonderful shiny coat was dull and rusty. The owners of the dog, my kidnappers, decided that I was no longer of value and so I was flushed down the toilet in order to get rid of the evidence of their crime. The sewer was not one bit nicer than the dog's intestines, yet it was one of the most exciting times of my life, where you really didn't know what would come round the next bend of pipes.
Next thing I knew I was lying down in a soft plushy surface in the depths of a fluffy pink duvet with surroundings so unlike what I had previously been in. There were soft lights shining down on me, and I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not, but I swear I could smell a hint of a sweet aroma drifting around the room, aside from the fact whether one dollar coins like me can smell or not. But it was just so calming. So tranquil...
That’s when I heard a loud bang! Someone just entered the room, or rather stormed into the room and slammed the door behind them. It was a little blonde haired girl who had entered. She was a cute little thing, although her pink dress was splattered with dirt all over and she had tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Leave me alone!” she yelled towards the door. “Now you stay there until you learn to calm down young lady, and don’t talk to me like that!” came a voice from outside the door. It sounded like the child’s mother. “Fine! I’m going to stay here forever an... and ever and I... I don’t want to go to Aunt Eleanor’s dumb party!” she cried back, in between stifling sobs.
“Alright, that’s it, Charlotte. No more going out to play with those trouble makers Benjamin and Arthur until you learn to act like a proper little girl. Sigh. I don’t know why I even bother...” she trailed off, muttering bits and pieces of something about Charlotte playing too much with ill disciplined 6 year old boys. From what I heard of their dispute, it seemed that the girl, Charlotte, had gone through quite some trouble to retrieve me to add to her little “treasure collection”. How cute. In fact, I was rather flattered by the thought. For once, someone actually wanted me. To keep me as a... a valuable! She actually liked me.
Now the little girl had sunk to the carpet bawling, with her fists banging down on the hardwood floor. Normally at a time like this I’d wish I had legs to help me run away from such a racket, but I felt pity for the poor thing. Only if there was some way I could help her, but what can I do? I’m just a useless inanimate object who’s no good for nothing, I thought... Then suddenly, like a miracle the girl stopped crying at once. She ran over towards me and picked me up in her little chubby hands, a huge smile plastered across her face. “I forgot I left this here! I thought I lost you!” Charlotte cried with glee. “Oh boy, I finally found something nice an’ shiny, an’ much bigger an’ better than Benji’s old lucky penny. Wait 'till he sees this!” she exclaimed.
Just then her bedroom door opened, and in stepped a quite pretty middle aged woman with the same blonde hair, and now that I noticed light green eyes as Charlotte. It was her mother. “Sweetie, would you please come out now to clean up and put on a new dress to go to Aunty Eleanor’s place?” Charlotte didn’t say anything. “She’s making your favorite brownies.” Her mother added. The little girl perked up at that. “Ok!” she exclaimed, “An’ I’m sorry for how I behaved. An’ I’ll never spoil a new dress ever again.” Now that’s much better, I thought. I never really viewed human feelings toward each other before. It made me feel different. Sort of tingly all over. I guessed you called that emotion. If that’s even possible for one dollar coins like me to feel. I heard the hurried rush of footsteps, the water running, and then the girl came back in to change into a new green dress. As she stepped out to leave her bedroom, I felt rather disappointed of having to be left alone once more. In the short time I’d been with Charlotte and her mother, I’d grown rather fond of them. I was actually quite happy with where I was. Then, as if my thoughts were being read, the girl quickly came over to my place on her bed and picked me up. “I better take you along - don’t want to lose my treasure,” she said quietly, and slipped me into the soft cozy pocket of her dress. If one dollar coins could smile, at that moment I swore I was.
After a while, we arrived at the party. I felt Charlotte jump up and down as I was in her pocket- she must be excited. I kept thinking about how she said I was her treasure and how she wanted me. It made me happy. I wanted to stay as her treasure and be valued forever. However, this dream of mine died really soon. A few minutes later, I heard her say, " AUNTY! look at my treasure!", as she took me out from her cozy pocket and showed it to her. Her aunt stared at me for quite a while. It felt awkward, but at last her aunt said I was pretty. Charlotte began showing me to others, saying how shiny and gold I was and how I was her treasure. Someone in the party asked to hold it so he could see better. I didn't like this idea. What if he took me away? At first, Charlotte wasn't going to, but she did anyways.
I started to panic. I then heard him say, " Wow, I want this thing..... Hey Charlotte, your mother called you a few times already, hurry up and go to her." It was not true, I didn't hear her mother call her at all. I wanted to shout and yell to her that it wasn't true, but she had already forgotten about me and ran toward her mother. The man put me in his pocket. This pocket was cold, unlike Charlotte's. My life just sucked. I kept on getting passed around like an unwanted doll. About thirty minutes later, I heard Charlotte asking the man where I was. I really wanted to tell her where I was. The man just said he doesn't know and gave her some other random old ugly coin and she was all happy again already. I wondered what this man would do.
After what felt like hours of sitting in his pocket, he left the party and got into his car. Once he sat down, he roughly jerked me out of his pocket and held me in front of his face. I looked at him uncomfortably, inches away from his wide eyes, his cold breath washing over me. After minutes of studying me, he grinned.
"One more to add to the collection and make me rich." He shoved me back into his pocket and quickly drove away. Soon we arrived at his home - a small, dark, secluded apartment. Once inside, I bounced around in his pocket as he rushed up the stairs and into his room. He pulled me out and placed me in a square glass case before dropping me into an old jewelry box. l cluttered amongst a pile of more encased coins, and I was enveloped in darkness as soon as the man shut the box. There I lay, dismally drowned in the whispers of the other coins. Whispers of fear and exhaustion. For days I sat in that box, a feeling of dread building up inside me, until finally the man opened the box again. The light practically blinded me as he picked up the box and dumped us all into a small bag. He took us into his car and drove to a large building. The building was huge inside, and filled with seated people. He walked along a carpeted path down the middle of the room and got up onto the stage. He laid us neatly on a shelf and then stood in front of a large mic. Immediately, everyone quieted down. "Welcome everyone. Lets begin with the first item on auction today." he announced. "A collection of 20 of the first loonies ever made. The starting bid is $50." The response was barbaric. The greedy men and women shouted over each other, each one outbidding the last until finally, one man bid the highest, and for $300, I was dumped into the hands of yet another unknown person.
Fear made me quiver in the enclosed glass box, wondering what would happen to my fate. But then the unfamiliar old man had shed tears as he cradled the glass box. We arrived at his house after a thirty minute drive. He held me tight as he walked inside the large mansion. He placed me beside a picture of a young girl. He sobbed, “Oh darling, why did you leave me here alone? Your mother already passed away 2 years ago. Now you…You were only 23. You had never let me lead you down your wedding aisle. Remember our promise when you were three? I promised to get you a coin with the same year of birth as you. I brought it. Daddy did it...” With those words, his sorrowfulness struck my heart like thunder.
Ever since that day the old man treated me as if I was the largest diamond in the world. He treasured me. His feelings toward me were more than anyone’s, even Charlotte's. I love him; however the love I have for him is a bitter love. Soon his hair turned whiter and whiter. After years and years under his care, his final days came. He spent his last seconds beside his wife’s and daughter’s pictures. I wished I could have said thank you and good bye to him. This was my second time seeing a person pass away, but it was a lot more sorrowful than the previous one I had witnessed. I never thought it would have been so painful. Human lives are so exquisite. Here today, gone tomorrow, easily taken by a disease or accident.
Why is my life so pointless? I wondered. I had been through so many highs and lows in my life. Why won’t this cycle end? I am tired of getting love from one then getting stolen by another. I do not desire an owner that would treasure me for life, because their life would end but mine would not. I am immortal. I do not have a lifespan. I do not want to see another one I love yanked away to Heaven.
But alas, all things must come to an end, even me, someday. Although being admired as a priceless artifact (though actually only a dollar) made me feel as if I was something important, the endless waves of peering eyes and the seemingly eternal seclusion was tiring, and my permanence did not make things better. The weight of loneliness in this house seemed to drive all living things away. Except for this one time, a few weeks after my previous owner’s death, when a real estate agent decided to try and sell this house. The first visitors, a young family of four came in. At first I was finally anticipating some pleasant company who weren't going to keep me as a collectible, but then the youngest child, a boy no younger than a toddler, pointed at me with a face that could indicate nothing more than sheer horror as if I was some sort of evil. I know I am not evil, although the things that have happened to my previous owners were…. Unfortunate, to say the very least. The same face of the child was reflected by his parents, who muttering something about cursed trinkets, promptly packed up, swept the child away from my sight, and I never saw them again, nor the agent.
The days, months, years, possibly decades after were those of sheer isolation. The mansion sat abandoned, and so did I. The floor and walls slowly crumbled around me, the ceiling cracked and threatening to fall apart, and even the picture of the girl decayed to dust as I sat in my glass case, pondering my final demise. No such fate awaited me. I was instead rescued by a wayward hiker, who found me. So back among humanity I go, I first thought. But I was soon to be proven wrong as the hiker was in fact a renowned traveler of the land, and wherever he went, so did I. I had soon crossed continents and oceans, been to the highest mountains and the darkest ocean depths. Then there were the volcanoes. I was honestly terrified at the concept of being consumed by fire, but somehow I found the concept of joining the earth again a welcoming idea. Unfortunately, my owner and guide did not find the earth so welcome as he met his fate evaporated by the earth's heat.
I was all alone again. Coming back to my isolation, I felt like my journey would never end. Life as a coin was not exciting, nor could I say boring. It was the plain truth of living; we live for no reason just like how we die for no reason. Still, a coin could not choose its own fate. Humans are lucky since they could move, talk, and express themselves. Even the dirty thought of stealing was a luxury for me as I could never steal anything. After all these years, I had met numerous people, been to myriad places and faced countless hard situations. My senses were fading in a way only they could. My shining surface which once brought me honor and fame was no longer golden and beautiful. I was old. I wasn’t sure exactly how old I was but time was simply of no use for me. I was the silent observer of this world, and I would remain this way as long as the world remains.
As time went on, I thought my life will be over right here, a desolate and silent place. My hope slowly trickled away, and the only thing I had was a rusty body. One day, however, as footsteps crunched over the hard dirt, I realized it was my last chance. They were the rescue team.
“Can you guys find anything that Dave left? Or his skeleton?” One of the rescuers shouted. No one answered him.
It turned out the hiker’s name was Dave.
Fortunately, then they found me, because the reflected light that the sun has laid on me was exactly shining a man's eyes.
"What's that there shining so brightly?" This man said and walked to me. Then he picked me up and watched me for a moment.
"Hey, look what I found! A coin of 1987!" The man, looking surprised. He dusted me off and put me in his pocket, and I couldn't have felt more happy.
I survived......I almost gave up, but god gave me another chance! I was very excited on the way to their destination, although I did not know where it was. But I believed that any place would be better than the muddy ashy volcano that I had stayed for years on end.
When I was taken out off the rescuer's pocket, I saw a little boy who was about 6 or 7 years old, leaning on his pillow in bed.
"My dear boy, look what daddy found today when I was up the volcano." The man passed me to the boy gently. The boy held me carefully in his palm and looked at me quietly.
"It's an old and cool coin daddy!" The boy's voice was weak but comforting. The man patted his little boy's head with all the love that a father could give his son and said: "Now it's all yours."
"I'm gonna put it in my piggy bank!" Said the boy, putting me on his bedside table. The man picked up the small pig that kept coins and shook it. The box made melodious sounds and I could tell that there must be many of coins like me in it.
"You've got much money now little sleepy head. Sooner or later we could get enough money to heal your illness." The man's soft voice made me feel warm but his words were indeed a surprise to me. This little boy was sick. How could that happen to him? Why did god send terrible things to a child who was as sweet as a marshmallow? I didn't understand and probably never will. Just like I never know what's going to happen to me next.
"Good night my boy." The man kissed the boy's forehead and left, shutting the door behind him.
The boy picked me up and stared at me again, I had never seen a pair of pure eyes like his before. "Good night Mr.Coin, or Ms.Coin. Thank you for being found by my daddy." He dropped me into the piggy bank and I fell on a pile of hard solids. Now I was on the top of hundreds of coins.
"Hey new coin, are you okay?" I believed that I heard a female voice. How could I even hear one voice? I'm in a piggy bank!
"Okay, still a lifeless one."The voice said again and then there was a deathly stillness.
For the first time in my life, I tried to speak. "Who's there?" Am I kidding myself? Oh my god, I actually could speak!
And of course, I didn't realize that those were the first words I spoke to the love of my life as well.
Miss. Coin, the female coin (to be precise she was a 5 cent coin) who spoke to me had joined the piggy bank a few days ago; she was very popular here because of her sweet voice, amiable smile and kindness. Maybe fate had brought us together and some amazing story will happen to us. Now let me introduce the piggy bank first. It was like a kingdom which consisted of kings, citizens and some cruel and unfair rules. I am a new citizen here, so I am always bullied by the other coins. Fortunately, Miss Coin is like a fairy which the Lord dispatches to help me. She lets me know what is true love. And I really want to say the most beautiful thing in my life is that Miss Coin smiles because of me. I will never forget the great time between us.
I was to be faced with a great dilemma though, and it was to come very soon. Miss Coin whom I called Connie and I became extremely close. For the first time in my existence I was feeling content- living in the moment wasn't hard to do at all. No longer did I fret about my past and ponder about the future. Life in the piggy bank was as luxurious as life for a coin could get. We were safe from hands that would rub against our corners and deface us. There was no water to eat away at my metal, and what was even better was that I had friends, actual friends, and we could communicate! Eventually even the bullies stopped annoying me and moved on to the other newcomers. I was left with hours and hours to enjoy with Connie. We talked about our life and what adventures we had experienced. I was shocked by the many riveting stories she had. It turned my life into a laughing stock. She talked about almost all her previous owners in such a nice way it made me realize that maybe what I was missing in life was a good point of view. As far as my journey had taken me I had spent a great deal of time sad about what had happened in the past when what I should have done was enjoy what was happening to me in that very moment. It was a good thing that I realized this because it allowed me to enjoy the short time I had left with Connie.
Almost a year had gone by since I was deposited into the piggy bank. We had heard enough about the boy to figure out that he was suffering from some type of disease called leukemia. It was quite sad to think that such a nice boy would have to suffer so much. His family was not financially capable to support his treatment so his only hope was us coins. Slowly, but without a hitch, our ceramic pig shaped container became extremely full. Every type of money, from petty cents to bills his family had found on the street or collected from some water fountain went into the piggy bank. Soon there were so many of us squished together it became extremely uncomfortable. Then one day we heard the boy's parents talking. It was crucial the boy undergo treatment within a month, yet they didn't have enough money no matter how hard they had worked the past few months. They began to cry and then slowly the sobbing came to an end. The dad spotted our piggy bank, and we could all felt his intense stare. A few moments later he picked the piggy bank up and took the stopper out, causing us to be spilled onto the coffee table, clinking and clanking as we hit the wooden surface. After some long minutes of counting they realized that they had enough money to pay for the treatment. They needed four hundred and fifty nine dollars and I was the last of those dollars. Connie was not among them. The dad put us back in the piggy bank and I heard him tell his wife that he would surprise their son tomorrow.
I was beginning to panic at that time, knowing that I would be taken out to pay the little boy's treatment and that I would never ever see Connie again. I found my way back to her and told her what I thought. Slowly a thought came to mind, maybe I could switch spots with some other coin. Desperately I asked other coins if they were willing to take my place but no one wanted to go. When the morning came and the dad opened the piggy bank once again one by one the coins and bills fell out. I had found a safe place where I wouldn't fall out of though, it was in the nose of the piggy. Connie and I were there. I really thought I was safe. Mentally I was counting how much money the parents had. They got to a total of four hundred and forty nine. My heart stopped. The boy needed me. His parents didn't have any spare coins- they had to send the money in right now. I had a choice to make, I could fall out of my safe place and never see Connie again but the boy would die, or I could stay here with Connie and live a happy life. I didn't know what to choose but I had to act fast.
The young boy deserved all the help he could get and I was not willing to let love blind me from the right thing to do; I was prepared to leave Connie behind.
“Wait!” Connie stopped me.
“I’m sorry Connie, I won’t let the boy die,” I said as I prepared to jump.
“You jump, I jump,” Connie said.
“Oh gosh, it’s not the time for Titanic,” I replied back with an annoyed tone.
I jumped out of the piggy bank and landed right on the ground beside the wife’s foot.
“Honey, look! We have enough money now! This dollar just fell out of the piggy bank!” the wife exclaimed.
Now where in the world was Connie? Why didn't she jump out yet? Was she stuck? I quickly looked up into the piggy bank.
“Haha sucker! You think I was going to jump off with you like some crazy girl in love?” Connie said like a bully.
“Why, Connie? Why didn't I know you had this other side of you?” I asked in confusion.
“You think I’m going to answer a stupid question like that? You are so juvenile that I can’t stand you anymore. I’m so happy that I wasn't as crazy as you. What were you even thinking? Leaving me alone for a boy?” she shot back.
“You absolutely have no heart Connie. Some coin like you will never understand.” I replied.
“You’re right, I don’t have a heart. I am very different from a human wannabe like you.” she said.
I was picked up with all the other coins into a leather bag and taken away into a car. I sat there thinking about the words Connie said. Did I do the right thing leaving her alone? Did it actually hurt her that much? I was so confused that I didn't notice we already arrived at the bank and it was already my turn being dumped into the coin machine.
Along with the other hundreds or thousands of coins, I fell hard to the bottom of this coin machine. Countless thoughts ran through my head at that moment, as the other coins yelped as they clattered down to the bottom. I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I was here with all these other coins, feeling confused and lonely. I crashed onto the hard surface, and for a second everything was quiet. I was beyond glad when I thought about the little boy, who was now probably overjoyed by the fact that he was going to get his treatment. I had helped someone, I had done something good that had made someone so happy. But part of me was so tired and worn out. I had left Connie, who was actually a mean coin who didn't care about anything or anyone other than herself. But she had been my friend, and I had always longed for a friend. Now, I was all alone with these strange coins that lay here quietly, and seemed horrified to be here. Should I be frightened to be here? No, I didn't think so. Frightened of what? I then thought. Every time I was in a new place, it was a new experience, a new adventure. I think that is what matters. Yes, a lot of the time I am being used by people with different needs, but I guess that is just what I am made to do. I can’t change that, all I can do is accept that. I had a great time living in that little boys’ piggy bank, but it was time for a new adventure. I just had to be positive, and with that thought, I looked around and decided to start making conversation and getting to know all of these unique new coins.
The coin beside me looked interesting. It was a two dollar coin that was perfectly clean, shiny and delicate looking.
“Hello!” I said excitedly. No reply. “Hello…” I tried again.
“Hi… What brings you here?” the coin asked shyly.
I then narrated my story, ending with how I saved the little boy by coming here. During my long talk, the coin exclaimed in surprise a few times.
“Wow! You sure are a hero. I am just so scared to be here… I'm sad. I shouldn't be here. I should be home with Suzie.”
The coin told me that Suzie had been the girl that kept her in her little money box for two whole years. She used to clean and polish every coin she had to perfection, and really adored all of her coins. The two dollar coin also told me how it got to Suzie. One night, Suzie’s dad held the coin in his hand, and a few seconds later she was under Suzie’s pillow. In the morning, when Suzie saw this coin, she had cried with joy and put her coins in her money box. And that is where the coin had spend this amazing time of its life. Up till this day, when Suzie decided that she wanted to exchange all her coins into paper bills.
I was intently listening to Jenny tell her story, and at the same time thinking that even though it had been a little while that I was with the little boy, I still had a connection with him, and I felt a lot like Jenny. The more Jenny and I talked, the more we realized how alike we were. Going from one place to another, having to live under harsh conditions, being thrown around, or getting very lucky and living with someone who took good care of us and appreciated us.
Jenny and I talked a lot everyday. We now know so much about each others lives it was as though we had lived together. Although I really enjoyed Jenny's presence, life was being the same old dark life that I had before. "What's going to happen next?" I asked one day.
"I don't know, I really don't. I guess we have to wait here and see." Jenny said. We stayed in the bank for a long while. I lost count of the months that went by. I couldn't see anything but I could hear things clearly. The things I heard were funny and sad at the same time. When people entered a bank they changed completely sometimes. Their attitude towards money was so weird. They worshiped it. I sometimes could hear them boast about the way they gained money. About the way they were collecting money for a long time to do something with it. People came to get loans from the bank. They had interesting stories to tell other people about why they needed the money so desperately. Once I heard this woman's conversation with one of her friends. Her story was so sad and so touching that almost brought me to tears. I remember the woman walking through the doors as she was crying and talking to her friend at the same time. She was telling her friend about her life.
"I saw my life go to flames in front of my eyes. I woke up one morning, drank my coffee with my husband, made my son and daughters lunch and left early for work. I didn't even think for a second that it was the last time I was going to see my husband and my son." The woman stops talking cause of her tears. I can hear the pain in her voice so clearly. "What happened exactly?" The other woman asked. "My husband was driving my son to school that morning because he was late and he had his final exam. He got into a car accident, a huge one. He died on the spot. My son, however, went through so much pain. He was in the hospital for almost a year in a coma. The doctors said he could feel pain but just can't show any reactions. Do you know how hard it is for a mother to see her son like that?" She started bawling again. I think the pain of that memory hit her harder this time. I felt her pain. I have had gone through so much in my life as the first coin, I though my life was so hard and impossible from time to time, but now I realize that humans sometimes have more pain in their hearts then all the pain that me and the other coins have all together. They can't control their lives, and sometimes nothing works out for them. Now that they couldn't control their pain, at least other people could make it easier on them. I wish everyone was nice to each other. I could sometimes hear the conversations between people. It was so harsh sometimes, so painful. Sometimes I can hear and feel the people's hearts breaking. I've seen all sorts of people, from rich to really poor ones. To my surprise, the poor people felt happier about their lives than the rich people. I could hear the rich people complaining about how they weren't enjoying life, about how they have to look over their shoulders in the fear of someone taking their money. They didn't know who their true friends were. Some didn't know about love. And then there were some poor people that talked about life like they were enjoying it all they can. Even with the problems they had, they make it seem like it can be solved. Everyday I hear laughter and cries. I felt happy and sad, and that's when it hit me. Going through so much pain made me feel worse. I had emotions. Nobody would ever imagine a piece of metal with emotions, but I could feel pain and I could feel joy. I felt like I had a heart that could break sometimes, that could be happy as well. If there was one thing that people taught me that I will be always thankful for is when they showed me how you can have a heart. Being able to feel things was awesome. I am a very old coin and my life had never been valuable since I was born . No one valued me as other bank notes. I still feel power over pennies and quarters. It makes me a little bit happier but not much. The only thing I need is love from people who own me .
And even if I couldn’t get it, the love from other people, even if I was only viewed as a monetary object, that would please me too. As long as I was still needed in this world, I would gladly offer up my services and help the others in any way possible. I am merely a dollar coin, scarred and broken inside and out, but the least I could do is listen as others cried and smile when I hear laughter.
I can’t change anything. I’ve known that for a while now. The only thing I can do is be spent and move along with my life, getting whisked away from place to place. I’ve seen so many fascinating sights and met such a wide variety of people that I’m getting used to it, this constant fast pace of not knowing where I would sleep next. It was like travelling for free- nothing beats being on the road without a map and getting shoved into a room full of strangers.
I still think about my past sometimes. The details are a little fuzzy and the lines between truth and fiction blur a little, but the important parts still resound within me. The first time I witnessed a death. The startling cold from the wishing fountain. Little girls with fluffy hair and even fluffier dresses. Being betrayed by my first true love. Is this how it’s like to have feelings? Every time I look back, I feel a little part of me crumble away from sadness, and the memories replay like a vintage film with bad actors and terrible directing. But this is what had happened to me, and in a way, it had strengthened me.
Instead of worrying about what the future had in mind, I lie down and stare at the eggshell white ceiling, letting go and just being along for the ride.
I travel only as a single thought, a material greatly sought. Although I am most people’s desire, I have never been truly adored. My
mere purpose is to be obtained and then lost, gained and then spent. My brass coating serves no purpose, the art around my sides show no style. I am a one dollar coin, and no one has ever really wanted me.
I have been alive since 1987 and have been bought and sold too many times to recall. I spent nights under pillows to be discovered in the morning by a toothless child, I have been dropped to the ground only to be picked up by another stranger. Several times I have been held, but never have I ever been truly wanted. Why is it that you seek me, only to lose or trade me the day after? Is it really me that you are searching for? With no imagination, I can not believe that I really am the true object of your desire. People look upon coins and see nothing of the dollar itself. They look beyond it. With an image as clear as the sky on a sunny day, they see their dreams, their children’s dreams, and I don't know what I did to be the mirror of your desires. I even believe that you do not know the true reason either. Perhaps if you see my life, I can explain it in enough detail. Maybe then we may further investigate this inquiry and decide for ourselves what I really have done for you and what you really have done in exchange for me.
My first memory began in a small wooden cabinet where the fresh smell of pine spread across the whole room. On the table I laid down as an ugly rectangular brass, waiting for the fateful moment. Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps heading into the cabinet.
A man wrapped around in layers and layers of jackets kicked the door open and groaned, “Aye, this cold reminds me of the past year. Winter of ’84, my eyelids froze, but I still worked like a dog for those people.”
The large man threw his coat and shoes down while hopping towards his favorite chair, wincing and rubbing his sore legs. When he reached his chair, he started up the blazing fire and poured beer into his crudely crafted mug, all the while mumbling and swearing. After he downed his cup and stretched, he limped towards the table and placed a candle to illuminate the darkness.
He stared down at me and began mumbling to himself, “Oh boy, I'll make sure you're be a fine beauty when I'm finished with you. After all the trouble I had to go through to create you.”
The man picked up his tools and began to slowly carve me after a design drawn on old brown paper. He began with my body and engraved the design with such caution and grace that would make even the most meticulous tailor green with envy. After hours of carving, engraving, and sanding, he seemed to be satisfied with the results. He gently tied a red ribbon around my new smooth edges, then placed me in a small wooden box full of wool and tiredly dropped dead on to his bed. I was the prototype of my kind and felt special despite my humble birth. I thought I would have a peaceful reign as a beautiful work of art. Of course, it took me years to realize how foolish that thought was.
Although my creation was extremely crude, eventually I became the model of many other coins, all carved to the point of extreme precision with the best machinery the country could afford. There was a time when I was praised, repeatedly polished until I shone like the sun, and was gently set on a velvet cushion to display what I had to offer. My creator, Robert-Ralph Carmichael, became rich and famous, eventually replacing me with an enormous monument. Only too soon was I tucked into the ordinary coin drawer thoughtlessly. There I waited for years among grub like moldy pennies and dull nickels, until a servant girl's fingers nervously snatched me from my place and stuffed me into her sleeves. Listening in to the snippets of conversations I was able to deduce that she wished to seek out a new life, all the way in British Columbia. Echo Bay was too small for a young girl with dreams wider than the sky.
Little did I know that this event had a domino effect, triggering other situations-lies, secrets, and revolt will enfold, and that I would be the catalyst of it all. On a cold winter evening of 1987, while the young girl was working at a McDonald's restaurant in Vancouver, British Columbia, a middle aged man walked up to her. This man was in his early 50s, had a relatively huge belly for someone his size, and a receding line of grey hair. He ordered a Double Big Mac meal and paid the girl a ten dollar bill. As the meal cost nine dollars, the girl had to give him back one dollar for change.The girl pulled out the drawer, grasped my sides with her soft, icy fingers, and handed me to the rough hands of the man.
The man was aged and so his clumsy fingers dropped me to the ground, making me clatter against the floor painfully. I rolled far on the ground and by some miracle , I rolled through the cracks of the McDonald's front entrance and into an alley. The man did not even bother to search for me as he was too busy enjoying his Double Big Mac meal. Here I am, in an alley beside a dumpster on a icy winter day, waiting for someone that would never come. For a moment I thought this will be where the rest of my life lay. The snow had fallen again, the chilled air rushing against me while I laid on the cold, merciless earth. When ice began to coat my jagged sides, I had all but given up hope when a man stumbled in to the alley. He was in ragged, threadbare clothes that showed the spoils of his past meals with patches indicating the need of replacements. As he came near, a strong rush of alcohol filled up the air, permeating the surroundings with an ill scent. The man wobbled on unsteady knees and fell on the ground, cursing as he went down. Instead of getting up, he just sat there and let out a laugh of sadness, then started to tear up, as if he were mocking himself ironically. Then, he noticed me for the first time and started to complain to me. For hours we sat there, him telling the tale of his life while I just listened, enraptured at the sad story. His life's tragedy began when he was just a baby- he was orphaned due to his parent's death in an accident. Then god saw his suffering and decided to take pity on him, helping him to become a successful businessman owning one of the largest international corporations. He met the love of his life when he was just 25 and the two were ready to get married. Everything was going well, but as if god had played a giant joke on him, the tragedy came on his wedding day. He saved his lover from a planned assassination designed for both of them but he didn't escape the cruel fate and fell into a coma from his injuries.
For years he lied on a hospital bed until he woke up. His company had been devoured by his enemies. All of his other possessions had been sold in an auction to pay for his hospital bill. Without his wealth and power, his so called friends began to leave him one by one. Finally, his lover ran off with another man. After these events he began to intoxicate himself with alcohol in a half-hearted attempt to wash away the past. Everything he had left was either gambled away or traded for alcohol- he lived in poverty from then. He picked me up and caressed me with his fingers as gently as he could, as if I was a treasure worth a great fortune. He took a long deep look at me and said: "You are my last bet."
I felt pity for the man. It seemed extremely unfair for him to have to undergo so much pain, especially after he had spent such great effort to succeed. It would be such a loss for him to use me as his last bet. No one or anything deserved to wash away to nothingness, and yet it seemed so common in our modern society. Everything can crumble down into ash within the blink of an eye, even people who are created only to die. Money gets traded without a thought, ships go to and from, families live monotonously waiting for something to come without realizing that they are wasting away their lives. It was like this that I realized something, that I too was very much like the poor man that lay beside me. I had come from a humble beginning and despite my great ambitions, here I lay on the banks of a street. Did I really wish to live like this? What could I do to change my fate though? Amidst a great feeling of impotence the man beside me began to have a coughing fit. He wheezed for minutes on end and doubled over, having a series of spasms before he was dead still. His breathing slowed until you could no longer hear the raspy intake of air. I realized a moment later that he had died, and despite the sadness, I felt inspired, motivated. I had lived too long not enjoying where I was. If I couldn't do anything about it I might as well begin to enjoy it. My revelation seemed to bring along good fortune too, for the very next day, after the dead man was discovered by the police and taken away, a little girl and boy found me.
It wasn't until days later that I found myself lying frozen in the snow again. The last few days had been a blur to me...a horrid dream...something I'd rather forget. Only now was I beginning to realize how cruel the human life could be. Words like "gambling", "alcohol", "cheating" and ”death” were just beginning to enter into my vocabulary...and it made me feel very unfortunate.
Well...
Maybe not as unfortunate as some. Like the poor abandoned man, who lost his last dollar to the dirt covered streets...or the crying child, who was beaten by his father for picking up one little brass coin.
I had to admit, I missed the darkness and the soothing calm of those old wooden drawers that people left me in. Even a wallet sounded pleasant at the moment. But unlucky for me, because the next thing I knew, a screaming little girl was shaking me back and forth like she had just won the lottery. Holding me up to her face, she whispered, “I wish I could be a princess!” before immediately tossing me into the freezing nightmarish land of a fountain. At the very least, I didn't need to breathe...otherwise I'd be a dead piece of brass right now. Later I found myself thinking how stupid that girl was. She wanted me to make her a princess, yet she tossed me away like a piece of trash. I didn't care how sweet or adorable she was- that little brat wasn't going to become Cinderella in my life time!
Or maybe I shouldn’t be so cruel. Anyway, since that horrible moment, I've been counting and have now found that my stay in this fountain was getting to be a little too long. A month of staring at the constant rippling ceiling above you, it
sort of begins to affect your mind after a while...that much I knew.
Suddenly, my "eye" caught a little girl peering down at me. She lowered her hand into the water, sending everything into a rippling blur. Warm fingers closed over my frozen surface and finally I was surrounded by air again. If a dollar could sigh, I would with relief. The girl showed me to an older woman and they exchanged words I could hardly hear over the roar of the fountain. I managed
to catch the phrases "oldest one yet" and "add to collection"… But I was too happy to worry much about anything at the time, which happened to be a huge mistake. My previous wish was soon answered as I slipped into the calming darkness of a pocket. Hours later though, I found myself in the sticky grasp of gluey fingers, as I am coated in white and pasted to a flimsy piece of cardboard. I noticed a label below me reading "1987", before I was shoved to the back of a dusty shelf...forgotten.
I was only now beginning to realize that, life as the first dollar, wasn't exactly all roses…
My time on that dusty shelf was not fun. My owner was most likely a hoarder, as I lived among piles of random objects. The cardboard which I had been glued on was also adorned with other coins that dated back to the Romans and Greeks, and we chattered amicably, the only good memory I had of that place. What wonderful stories they told about their adventures back in the olden days! There was a coin that had belonged to a gypsy who owned a dancing bear. The bear had liked to waltz with all the tiny girls and boys of the village, bringing about much joy within the little town. There was a coin that had belonged to Einstein, and boy, did he have some wacky stories to tell. He talked about experiments he had been forced to take part of, and as exciting as it sounded I was most grateful to not be him. There was another coin that had belonged to a hitch hiker, who never used money and always stole, yet he collected coins from all around the world. This coin in particular was nothing special, but the things she had seen were quite the contrary of dull. There were also many old objects neighboring my place on top of the shelf, for example, the turtle shell and the old Barbie toy. While I was looking around, I fell asleep.After a couple of days, some quick, sharp and loud raps came from the door awoke me from my dream; slowly opening my tired eyes, I was shocked to see my owner lying on the ground, clenching his wrinkled shirt around her chest, with dark blue veins protruding on her pinched face. Scenes I saw brought me into panic, and my instinct told me that she was about to die. An impulse suggesting me to save her suddenly came into my mind; however, as a small and helpless loonie, all I could do was watch, sigh and pray. As time elapsed, a week had passed, the fetid scent from the corpse getting stronger and stronger. I was tortured so much by the bad scent. As I wished for someone to come, the door was knocked down by the neighbors. A few seconds later, as the neighbors came in, the disgusting smell blew into their noses and a lot started to puke, the air becoming more wretched with every second. Then, a doctor from the crowd announced that she was killed by heart attack, and organized people to clean up. After a long time cleaning up, they realized that this was a house filled with fantastic collections: a tremendous wall with precious coins from around the world, an old turtle shell reflecting golden light and a Barbie toy which was from the first time a Barbie was released to the current Barbie toy, and so much more antiques that littered every nook and cranny of the vintage manor. A government official deprived all the collections, including me, in her house and put me in a huge box with other random objects.
By the time a flabby, shaking hand took me out of the box, I saw an aged man who could barely walk, though I couldn’t deny the fact that he loved collecting- his hot tear dropped onto my surface, startling me from the heat. This was the first time I felt such intense temperature since I was abandoned by my designer. He was the most famous collector in all of British Columbia and he put me in the museum, which belonged to him, after he had examined and stared at every inch of my rough, scratched surface.
My next few years were spent in a museum behind glass doors. Day after day I would have children press their noses on the glass panes and watch me for a while before going away. The first time this happened I was filled with happiness- finally I was going to have the attention I deserved! However, the museum was filled with wonderful sights such as mummies, treasure, paintings galore, and I soon realized that fleeting glances were not enough to satisfy my yearning for happiness. As if the one above me, if he existed, had heard my prayers, the very next day a spectacular event occurred. The museum had just closed, the guards were already at their positions, the alarms were set and ready. I prepared myself for another long and tedious night, but then shortly after the first shift switch I heard a bang. The guards jumped awake spilling their coffee on the floor. Seconds later the first alarm went off only to be deactivated in no time. Suddenly one of the guards fell to the floor, his hand holding his neck where an arrow stuck out in an almost comical fashion. There was a thick mist rolling in and the next thing that was happening was my kidnapping. A man took out a laser gun and, just like in the movies, cut a hole in the glass cover above me. He reached in with his leather gloves and put me into a bag. From then on everything is a blur.
I woke up the next day on someone's desk. I could hear voices yelling from the room outside. I managed to catch some phrases here and there, and from what I could tell I had been part of a string of robberies. It appeared to me as if my monetary value had for some weird reason increased to thousands of dollars. On any other day I would have felt extremely happy. However, under the given circumstances, I was actually quite nervous. According to their plan I would have to be turned into scrap metal in order to be sold. Scrap metal! I was not ready to have my dignity stripped away. I might be a humble coin, but that did not mean that I did not have a sense of pride. After all, no first of a kind should be turned into a useless piece of recyclable material! It would be outrageous! The question was, how would I escape this fate? I could not move and I had no way of communicating with these felons, although my gut feeling was that even talking wouldn't save me from them. The only thing I could do was to wish that someone would save me, or that they would change their minds.
It seemed that luck was indeed on my side that day, for help did come my way, in a very peculiar way. As it happens, there was some food besides me, and the owner of the food and desk where I was had a ferocious dog that I swear could have eaten anything at all, including myself. The dog seemed to have been very hungry that day and so he took a desperate lunge at the sandwich that lay right behind me. The dog didn't have much good aim and as a result he not only swallowed the sandwich but he also swallowed me!
Going through the digestive system was not a fun ride and by the time I had made it through, my wonderful shiny coat was dull and rusty. The owners of the dog, my kidnappers, decided that I was no longer of value and so I was flushed down the toilet in order to get rid of the evidence of their crime. The sewer was not one bit nicer than the dog's intestines, yet it was one of the most exciting times of my life, where you really didn't know what would come round the next bend of pipes.
Next thing I knew I was lying down in a soft plushy surface in the depths of a fluffy pink duvet with surroundings so unlike what I had previously been in. There were soft lights shining down on me, and I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not, but I swear I could smell a hint of a sweet aroma drifting around the room, aside from the fact whether one dollar coins like me can smell or not. But it was just so calming. So tranquil...
That’s when I heard a loud bang! Someone just entered the room, or rather stormed into the room and slammed the door behind them. It was a little blonde haired girl who had entered. She was a cute little thing, although her pink dress was splattered with dirt all over and she had tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Leave me alone!” she yelled towards the door. “Now you stay there until you learn to calm down young lady, and don’t talk to me like that!” came a voice from outside the door. It sounded like the child’s mother. “Fine! I’m going to stay here forever an... and ever and I... I don’t want to go to Aunt Eleanor’s dumb party!” she cried back, in between stifling sobs.
“Alright, that’s it, Charlotte. No more going out to play with those trouble makers Benjamin and Arthur until you learn to act like a proper little girl. Sigh. I don’t know why I even bother...” she trailed off, muttering bits and pieces of something about Charlotte playing too much with ill disciplined 6 year old boys. From what I heard of their dispute, it seemed that the girl, Charlotte, had gone through quite some trouble to retrieve me to add to her little “treasure collection”. How cute. In fact, I was rather flattered by the thought. For once, someone actually wanted me. To keep me as a... a valuable! She actually liked me.
Now the little girl had sunk to the carpet bawling, with her fists banging down on the hardwood floor. Normally at a time like this I’d wish I had legs to help me run away from such a racket, but I felt pity for the poor thing. Only if there was some way I could help her, but what can I do? I’m just a useless inanimate object who’s no good for nothing, I thought... Then suddenly, like a miracle the girl stopped crying at once. She ran over towards me and picked me up in her little chubby hands, a huge smile plastered across her face. “I forgot I left this here! I thought I lost you!” Charlotte cried with glee. “Oh boy, I finally found something nice an’ shiny, an’ much bigger an’ better than Benji’s old lucky penny. Wait 'till he sees this!” she exclaimed.
Just then her bedroom door opened, and in stepped a quite pretty middle aged woman with the same blonde hair, and now that I noticed light green eyes as Charlotte. It was her mother. “Sweetie, would you please come out now to clean up and put on a new dress to go to Aunty Eleanor’s place?” Charlotte didn’t say anything. “She’s making your favorite brownies.” Her mother added. The little girl perked up at that. “Ok!” she exclaimed, “An’ I’m sorry for how I behaved. An’ I’ll never spoil a new dress ever again.” Now that’s much better, I thought. I never really viewed human feelings toward each other before. It made me feel different. Sort of tingly all over. I guessed you called that emotion. If that’s even possible for one dollar coins like me to feel. I heard the hurried rush of footsteps, the water running, and then the girl came back in to change into a new green dress. As she stepped out to leave her bedroom, I felt rather disappointed of having to be left alone once more. In the short time I’d been with Charlotte and her mother, I’d grown rather fond of them. I was actually quite happy with where I was. Then, as if my thoughts were being read, the girl quickly came over to my place on her bed and picked me up. “I better take you along - don’t want to lose my treasure,” she said quietly, and slipped me into the soft cozy pocket of her dress. If one dollar coins could smile, at that moment I swore I was.
After a while, we arrived at the party. I felt Charlotte jump up and down as I was in her pocket- she must be excited. I kept thinking about how she said I was her treasure and how she wanted me. It made me happy. I wanted to stay as her treasure and be valued forever. However, this dream of mine died really soon. A few minutes later, I heard her say, " AUNTY! look at my treasure!", as she took me out from her cozy pocket and showed it to her. Her aunt stared at me for quite a while. It felt awkward, but at last her aunt said I was pretty. Charlotte began showing me to others, saying how shiny and gold I was and how I was her treasure. Someone in the party asked to hold it so he could see better. I didn't like this idea. What if he took me away? At first, Charlotte wasn't going to, but she did anyways.
I started to panic. I then heard him say, " Wow, I want this thing..... Hey Charlotte, your mother called you a few times already, hurry up and go to her." It was not true, I didn't hear her mother call her at all. I wanted to shout and yell to her that it wasn't true, but she had already forgotten about me and ran toward her mother. The man put me in his pocket. This pocket was cold, unlike Charlotte's. My life just sucked. I kept on getting passed around like an unwanted doll. About thirty minutes later, I heard Charlotte asking the man where I was. I really wanted to tell her where I was. The man just said he doesn't know and gave her some other random old ugly coin and she was all happy again already. I wondered what this man would do.
After what felt like hours of sitting in his pocket, he left the party and got into his car. Once he sat down, he roughly jerked me out of his pocket and held me in front of his face. I looked at him uncomfortably, inches away from his wide eyes, his cold breath washing over me. After minutes of studying me, he grinned.
"One more to add to the collection and make me rich." He shoved me back into his pocket and quickly drove away. Soon we arrived at his home - a small, dark, secluded apartment. Once inside, I bounced around in his pocket as he rushed up the stairs and into his room. He pulled me out and placed me in a square glass case before dropping me into an old jewelry box. l cluttered amongst a pile of more encased coins, and I was enveloped in darkness as soon as the man shut the box. There I lay, dismally drowned in the whispers of the other coins. Whispers of fear and exhaustion. For days I sat in that box, a feeling of dread building up inside me, until finally the man opened the box again. The light practically blinded me as he picked up the box and dumped us all into a small bag. He took us into his car and drove to a large building. The building was huge inside, and filled with seated people. He walked along a carpeted path down the middle of the room and got up onto the stage. He laid us neatly on a shelf and then stood in front of a large mic. Immediately, everyone quieted down. "Welcome everyone. Lets begin with the first item on auction today." he announced. "A collection of 20 of the first loonies ever made. The starting bid is $50." The response was barbaric. The greedy men and women shouted over each other, each one outbidding the last until finally, one man bid the highest, and for $300, I was dumped into the hands of yet another unknown person.
Fear made me quiver in the enclosed glass box, wondering what would happen to my fate. But then the unfamiliar old man had shed tears as he cradled the glass box. We arrived at his house after a thirty minute drive. He held me tight as he walked inside the large mansion. He placed me beside a picture of a young girl. He sobbed, “Oh darling, why did you leave me here alone? Your mother already passed away 2 years ago. Now you…You were only 23. You had never let me lead you down your wedding aisle. Remember our promise when you were three? I promised to get you a coin with the same year of birth as you. I brought it. Daddy did it...” With those words, his sorrowfulness struck my heart like thunder.
Ever since that day the old man treated me as if I was the largest diamond in the world. He treasured me. His feelings toward me were more than anyone’s, even Charlotte's. I love him; however the love I have for him is a bitter love. Soon his hair turned whiter and whiter. After years and years under his care, his final days came. He spent his last seconds beside his wife’s and daughter’s pictures. I wished I could have said thank you and good bye to him. This was my second time seeing a person pass away, but it was a lot more sorrowful than the previous one I had witnessed. I never thought it would have been so painful. Human lives are so exquisite. Here today, gone tomorrow, easily taken by a disease or accident.
Why is my life so pointless? I wondered. I had been through so many highs and lows in my life. Why won’t this cycle end? I am tired of getting love from one then getting stolen by another. I do not desire an owner that would treasure me for life, because their life would end but mine would not. I am immortal. I do not have a lifespan. I do not want to see another one I love yanked away to Heaven.
But alas, all things must come to an end, even me, someday. Although being admired as a priceless artifact (though actually only a dollar) made me feel as if I was something important, the endless waves of peering eyes and the seemingly eternal seclusion was tiring, and my permanence did not make things better. The weight of loneliness in this house seemed to drive all living things away. Except for this one time, a few weeks after my previous owner’s death, when a real estate agent decided to try and sell this house. The first visitors, a young family of four came in. At first I was finally anticipating some pleasant company who weren't going to keep me as a collectible, but then the youngest child, a boy no younger than a toddler, pointed at me with a face that could indicate nothing more than sheer horror as if I was some sort of evil. I know I am not evil, although the things that have happened to my previous owners were…. Unfortunate, to say the very least. The same face of the child was reflected by his parents, who muttering something about cursed trinkets, promptly packed up, swept the child away from my sight, and I never saw them again, nor the agent.
The days, months, years, possibly decades after were those of sheer isolation. The mansion sat abandoned, and so did I. The floor and walls slowly crumbled around me, the ceiling cracked and threatening to fall apart, and even the picture of the girl decayed to dust as I sat in my glass case, pondering my final demise. No such fate awaited me. I was instead rescued by a wayward hiker, who found me. So back among humanity I go, I first thought. But I was soon to be proven wrong as the hiker was in fact a renowned traveler of the land, and wherever he went, so did I. I had soon crossed continents and oceans, been to the highest mountains and the darkest ocean depths. Then there were the volcanoes. I was honestly terrified at the concept of being consumed by fire, but somehow I found the concept of joining the earth again a welcoming idea. Unfortunately, my owner and guide did not find the earth so welcome as he met his fate evaporated by the earth's heat.
I was all alone again. Coming back to my isolation, I felt like my journey would never end. Life as a coin was not exciting, nor could I say boring. It was the plain truth of living; we live for no reason just like how we die for no reason. Still, a coin could not choose its own fate. Humans are lucky since they could move, talk, and express themselves. Even the dirty thought of stealing was a luxury for me as I could never steal anything. After all these years, I had met numerous people, been to myriad places and faced countless hard situations. My senses were fading in a way only they could. My shining surface which once brought me honor and fame was no longer golden and beautiful. I was old. I wasn’t sure exactly how old I was but time was simply of no use for me. I was the silent observer of this world, and I would remain this way as long as the world remains.
As time went on, I thought my life will be over right here, a desolate and silent place. My hope slowly trickled away, and the only thing I had was a rusty body. One day, however, as footsteps crunched over the hard dirt, I realized it was my last chance. They were the rescue team.
“Can you guys find anything that Dave left? Or his skeleton?” One of the rescuers shouted. No one answered him.
It turned out the hiker’s name was Dave.
Fortunately, then they found me, because the reflected light that the sun has laid on me was exactly shining a man's eyes.
"What's that there shining so brightly?" This man said and walked to me. Then he picked me up and watched me for a moment.
"Hey, look what I found! A coin of 1987!" The man, looking surprised. He dusted me off and put me in his pocket, and I couldn't have felt more happy.
I survived......I almost gave up, but god gave me another chance! I was very excited on the way to their destination, although I did not know where it was. But I believed that any place would be better than the muddy ashy volcano that I had stayed for years on end.
When I was taken out off the rescuer's pocket, I saw a little boy who was about 6 or 7 years old, leaning on his pillow in bed.
"My dear boy, look what daddy found today when I was up the volcano." The man passed me to the boy gently. The boy held me carefully in his palm and looked at me quietly.
"It's an old and cool coin daddy!" The boy's voice was weak but comforting. The man patted his little boy's head with all the love that a father could give his son and said: "Now it's all yours."
"I'm gonna put it in my piggy bank!" Said the boy, putting me on his bedside table. The man picked up the small pig that kept coins and shook it. The box made melodious sounds and I could tell that there must be many of coins like me in it.
"You've got much money now little sleepy head. Sooner or later we could get enough money to heal your illness." The man's soft voice made me feel warm but his words were indeed a surprise to me. This little boy was sick. How could that happen to him? Why did god send terrible things to a child who was as sweet as a marshmallow? I didn't understand and probably never will. Just like I never know what's going to happen to me next.
"Good night my boy." The man kissed the boy's forehead and left, shutting the door behind him.
The boy picked me up and stared at me again, I had never seen a pair of pure eyes like his before. "Good night Mr.Coin, or Ms.Coin. Thank you for being found by my daddy." He dropped me into the piggy bank and I fell on a pile of hard solids. Now I was on the top of hundreds of coins.
"Hey new coin, are you okay?" I believed that I heard a female voice. How could I even hear one voice? I'm in a piggy bank!
"Okay, still a lifeless one."The voice said again and then there was a deathly stillness.
For the first time in my life, I tried to speak. "Who's there?" Am I kidding myself? Oh my god, I actually could speak!
And of course, I didn't realize that those were the first words I spoke to the love of my life as well.
Miss. Coin, the female coin (to be precise she was a 5 cent coin) who spoke to me had joined the piggy bank a few days ago; she was very popular here because of her sweet voice, amiable smile and kindness. Maybe fate had brought us together and some amazing story will happen to us. Now let me introduce the piggy bank first. It was like a kingdom which consisted of kings, citizens and some cruel and unfair rules. I am a new citizen here, so I am always bullied by the other coins. Fortunately, Miss Coin is like a fairy which the Lord dispatches to help me. She lets me know what is true love. And I really want to say the most beautiful thing in my life is that Miss Coin smiles because of me. I will never forget the great time between us.
I was to be faced with a great dilemma though, and it was to come very soon. Miss Coin whom I called Connie and I became extremely close. For the first time in my existence I was feeling content- living in the moment wasn't hard to do at all. No longer did I fret about my past and ponder about the future. Life in the piggy bank was as luxurious as life for a coin could get. We were safe from hands that would rub against our corners and deface us. There was no water to eat away at my metal, and what was even better was that I had friends, actual friends, and we could communicate! Eventually even the bullies stopped annoying me and moved on to the other newcomers. I was left with hours and hours to enjoy with Connie. We talked about our life and what adventures we had experienced. I was shocked by the many riveting stories she had. It turned my life into a laughing stock. She talked about almost all her previous owners in such a nice way it made me realize that maybe what I was missing in life was a good point of view. As far as my journey had taken me I had spent a great deal of time sad about what had happened in the past when what I should have done was enjoy what was happening to me in that very moment. It was a good thing that I realized this because it allowed me to enjoy the short time I had left with Connie.
Almost a year had gone by since I was deposited into the piggy bank. We had heard enough about the boy to figure out that he was suffering from some type of disease called leukemia. It was quite sad to think that such a nice boy would have to suffer so much. His family was not financially capable to support his treatment so his only hope was us coins. Slowly, but without a hitch, our ceramic pig shaped container became extremely full. Every type of money, from petty cents to bills his family had found on the street or collected from some water fountain went into the piggy bank. Soon there were so many of us squished together it became extremely uncomfortable. Then one day we heard the boy's parents talking. It was crucial the boy undergo treatment within a month, yet they didn't have enough money no matter how hard they had worked the past few months. They began to cry and then slowly the sobbing came to an end. The dad spotted our piggy bank, and we could all felt his intense stare. A few moments later he picked the piggy bank up and took the stopper out, causing us to be spilled onto the coffee table, clinking and clanking as we hit the wooden surface. After some long minutes of counting they realized that they had enough money to pay for the treatment. They needed four hundred and fifty nine dollars and I was the last of those dollars. Connie was not among them. The dad put us back in the piggy bank and I heard him tell his wife that he would surprise their son tomorrow.
I was beginning to panic at that time, knowing that I would be taken out to pay the little boy's treatment and that I would never ever see Connie again. I found my way back to her and told her what I thought. Slowly a thought came to mind, maybe I could switch spots with some other coin. Desperately I asked other coins if they were willing to take my place but no one wanted to go. When the morning came and the dad opened the piggy bank once again one by one the coins and bills fell out. I had found a safe place where I wouldn't fall out of though, it was in the nose of the piggy. Connie and I were there. I really thought I was safe. Mentally I was counting how much money the parents had. They got to a total of four hundred and forty nine. My heart stopped. The boy needed me. His parents didn't have any spare coins- they had to send the money in right now. I had a choice to make, I could fall out of my safe place and never see Connie again but the boy would die, or I could stay here with Connie and live a happy life. I didn't know what to choose but I had to act fast.
The young boy deserved all the help he could get and I was not willing to let love blind me from the right thing to do; I was prepared to leave Connie behind.
“Wait!” Connie stopped me.
“I’m sorry Connie, I won’t let the boy die,” I said as I prepared to jump.
“You jump, I jump,” Connie said.
“Oh gosh, it’s not the time for Titanic,” I replied back with an annoyed tone.
I jumped out of the piggy bank and landed right on the ground beside the wife’s foot.
“Honey, look! We have enough money now! This dollar just fell out of the piggy bank!” the wife exclaimed.
Now where in the world was Connie? Why didn't she jump out yet? Was she stuck? I quickly looked up into the piggy bank.
“Haha sucker! You think I was going to jump off with you like some crazy girl in love?” Connie said like a bully.
“Why, Connie? Why didn't I know you had this other side of you?” I asked in confusion.
“You think I’m going to answer a stupid question like that? You are so juvenile that I can’t stand you anymore. I’m so happy that I wasn't as crazy as you. What were you even thinking? Leaving me alone for a boy?” she shot back.
“You absolutely have no heart Connie. Some coin like you will never understand.” I replied.
“You’re right, I don’t have a heart. I am very different from a human wannabe like you.” she said.
I was picked up with all the other coins into a leather bag and taken away into a car. I sat there thinking about the words Connie said. Did I do the right thing leaving her alone? Did it actually hurt her that much? I was so confused that I didn't notice we already arrived at the bank and it was already my turn being dumped into the coin machine.
Along with the other hundreds or thousands of coins, I fell hard to the bottom of this coin machine. Countless thoughts ran through my head at that moment, as the other coins yelped as they clattered down to the bottom. I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I was here with all these other coins, feeling confused and lonely. I crashed onto the hard surface, and for a second everything was quiet. I was beyond glad when I thought about the little boy, who was now probably overjoyed by the fact that he was going to get his treatment. I had helped someone, I had done something good that had made someone so happy. But part of me was so tired and worn out. I had left Connie, who was actually a mean coin who didn't care about anything or anyone other than herself. But she had been my friend, and I had always longed for a friend. Now, I was all alone with these strange coins that lay here quietly, and seemed horrified to be here. Should I be frightened to be here? No, I didn't think so. Frightened of what? I then thought. Every time I was in a new place, it was a new experience, a new adventure. I think that is what matters. Yes, a lot of the time I am being used by people with different needs, but I guess that is just what I am made to do. I can’t change that, all I can do is accept that. I had a great time living in that little boys’ piggy bank, but it was time for a new adventure. I just had to be positive, and with that thought, I looked around and decided to start making conversation and getting to know all of these unique new coins.
The coin beside me looked interesting. It was a two dollar coin that was perfectly clean, shiny and delicate looking.
“Hello!” I said excitedly. No reply. “Hello…” I tried again.
“Hi… What brings you here?” the coin asked shyly.
I then narrated my story, ending with how I saved the little boy by coming here. During my long talk, the coin exclaimed in surprise a few times.
“Wow! You sure are a hero. I am just so scared to be here… I'm sad. I shouldn't be here. I should be home with Suzie.”
The coin told me that Suzie had been the girl that kept her in her little money box for two whole years. She used to clean and polish every coin she had to perfection, and really adored all of her coins. The two dollar coin also told me how it got to Suzie. One night, Suzie’s dad held the coin in his hand, and a few seconds later she was under Suzie’s pillow. In the morning, when Suzie saw this coin, she had cried with joy and put her coins in her money box. And that is where the coin had spend this amazing time of its life. Up till this day, when Suzie decided that she wanted to exchange all her coins into paper bills.
I was intently listening to Jenny tell her story, and at the same time thinking that even though it had been a little while that I was with the little boy, I still had a connection with him, and I felt a lot like Jenny. The more Jenny and I talked, the more we realized how alike we were. Going from one place to another, having to live under harsh conditions, being thrown around, or getting very lucky and living with someone who took good care of us and appreciated us.
Jenny and I talked a lot everyday. We now know so much about each others lives it was as though we had lived together. Although I really enjoyed Jenny's presence, life was being the same old dark life that I had before.
"What's going to happen next?" I asked one day.
"I don't know, I really don't. I guess we have to wait here and see." Jenny said. We stayed in the bank for a long while. I lost count of the months that went by. I couldn't see anything but I could hear things clearly. The things I heard were funny and sad at the same time. When people entered a bank they changed completely sometimes. Their attitude towards money was so weird. They worshiped it. I sometimes could hear them boast about the way they gained money. About the way they were collecting money for a long time to do something with it. People came to get loans from the bank. They had interesting stories to tell other people about why they needed the money so desperately. Once I heard this woman's conversation with one of her friends. Her story was so sad and so touching that almost brought me to tears. I remember the woman walking through the doors as she was crying and talking to her friend at the same time. She was telling her friend about her life.
"I saw my life go to flames in front of my eyes. I woke up one morning, drank my coffee with my husband, made my son and daughters lunch and left early for work. I didn't even think for a second that it was the last time I was going to see my husband and my son." The woman stops talking cause of her tears. I can hear the pain in her voice so clearly.
"What happened exactly?" The other woman asked.
"My husband was driving my son to school that morning because he was late and he had his final exam. He got into a car accident, a huge one. He died on the spot. My son, however, went through so much pain. He was in the hospital for almost a year in a coma. The doctors said he could feel pain but just can't show any reactions. Do you know how hard it is for a mother to see her son like that?" She started bawling again. I think the pain of that memory hit her harder this time. I felt her pain. I have had gone through so much in my life as the first coin, I though my life was so hard and impossible from time to time, but now I realize that humans sometimes have more pain in their hearts then all the pain that me and the other coins have all together. They can't control their lives, and sometimes nothing works out for them. Now that they couldn't control their pain, at least other people could make it easier on them. I wish everyone was nice to each other. I could sometimes hear the conversations between people. It was so harsh sometimes, so painful. Sometimes I can hear and feel the people's hearts breaking. I've seen all sorts of people, from rich to really poor ones. To my surprise, the poor people felt happier about their lives than the rich people. I could hear the rich people complaining about how they weren't enjoying life, about how they have to look over their shoulders in the fear of someone taking their money. They didn't know who their true friends were. Some didn't know about love. And then there were some poor people that talked about life like they were enjoying it all they can. Even with the problems they had, they make it seem like it can be solved. Everyday I hear laughter and cries. I felt happy and sad, and that's when it hit me. Going through so much pain made me feel worse. I had emotions. Nobody would ever imagine a piece of metal with emotions, but I could feel pain and I could feel joy. I felt like I had a heart that could break sometimes, that could be happy as well. If there was one thing that people taught me that I will be always thankful for is when they showed me how you can have a heart. Being able to feel things was awesome.
I am a very old coin and my life had never been valuable since I was born . No one valued me as other bank notes. I still feel power over pennies and quarters. It makes me a little bit happier but not much. The only thing I need is love from people who own me .
And even if I couldn’t get it, the love from other people, even if I was only viewed as a monetary object, that would please me too. As long as I was still needed in this world, I would gladly offer up my services and help the others in any way possible. I am merely a dollar coin, scarred and broken inside and out, but the least I could do is listen as others cried and smile when I hear laughter.
I can’t change anything. I’ve known that for a while now. The only thing I can do is be spent and move along with my life, getting whisked away from place to place. I’ve seen so many fascinating sights and met such a wide variety of people that I’m getting used to it, this constant fast pace of not knowing where I would sleep next. It was like travelling for free- nothing beats being on the road without a map and getting shoved into a room full of strangers.
I still think about my past sometimes. The details are a little fuzzy and the lines between truth and fiction blur a little, but the important parts still resound within me. The first time I witnessed a death. The startling cold from the wishing fountain. Little girls with fluffy hair and even fluffier dresses. Being betrayed by my first true love. Is this how it’s like to have feelings? Every time I look back, I feel a little part of me crumble away from sadness, and the memories replay like a vintage film with bad actors and terrible directing. But this is what had happened to me, and in a way, it had strengthened me.
Instead of worrying about what the future had in mind, I lie down and stare at the eggshell white ceiling, letting go and just being along for the ride.